


The Legacy of Starecross Hall

by rubyofkukundu



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2020-03-05 09:11:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18825625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyofkukundu/pseuds/rubyofkukundu
Summary: Mr Segundus once again tries to set up a school for magicians at Starecross Hall, but starting such a project is still not as easy as he might have hoped. Will John Childermass be his friend in this endeavour, or his foe?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This story contains spoilers for the end of the book.
> 
> ***
> 
> Inspired by the following prompt from [caeciliusestinhorto](http://caeciliusestinhorto.tumblr.com):  
>  _starecross denied? post canon, maybe already established johnsquared, while segundus tries to get starecross going again he receives a letter from some parliamentarian telling him they’ve heard of his plans and will not allow him to make a magic school. childermass comforting segundus and raising hell on his behalf?_
> 
> I haven't followed the prompt word-for-word (it's not an already established relationship, for example) but the essence of the prompt is there I hope.

_Here beginneth a work of a sort most useful, for it shall, I pray, give hope to wretches like unto myself in their trials, and shall it also show unto mine enemies the wrongness of their deeds so that they may see how they have erred in the tormenting of this noble soul._

_Some six and thirty years hence, nigh unto the one thousand and four hundredth year of our Lord Jesus Christ was I born, but a poor humble wretch. Lettice was the name given to me, for it was the name of my grandmother, though I knew her not. The wisdom and beauty of my grandmother, of which I doubt not but that she was plentifully supplied thereof, passed not to my mother for she sank very low, marrying a mean and drunken butcher by name of Thomas Fyefeld._

_Six children there were of this most common union, with myself the final, and in great discomfort were we suffered to live in the shop wherein my father did ply his trade for the town of St Albans. Here already was my life blighted by misfortune. Would that my father had been granted the wit to have taken up a fine trade, for I had been right fit for the daughter of a grocer or a mercer. Yet no. Wretch that I was did grow amidst the animals and the blood and the stinking mire, with also my mother and my sisters chiding me always, for no doubt but they knew I had been granted gifts above their station._

_Now how they do repent, for it is I and not they who may live in this finery and with this knowledge and may engage a clerk to set down my tale herein._

***

Mr Segundus was familiar with magicians. Indeed, considering that for the past ten years he had been one of only four magicians in the whole of England, it could be argued that he was more familiar with the profession than most. Yet while Mr Segundus well knew that magicians liked to give long speeches and to argue a great deal (each thinking his own words of much more import than anyone else's) Mr Segundus had not before known such an uproar as this.

There in the upper room of the Old Starre Inn at York two remarkable things had just occurred. The first was that the Learned Society of York Magicians had, but an hour ago, been refounded and was now three-times the size of its previous incarnation. The second was that this newly re-established society had then been introduced to a book written by the Raven King himself, which book had, bizarrely, taken the form of Vinculus, a street sorcerer whom Mr Segundus had met in London many years back.

Mr Segundus did not know what to make of it all. He was both delighted and amazed, and yet still so surprised with the turn of events that his thoughts could go no further. Why, he was certain he must be glad that good people such as his friend Mr Honeyfoot might study magic again, and he was also surely glad to see so many new faces about the room. But of the Raven King's book... What could one say when confronted with such knowledge?

It was an astonishing thing to come to pass! John Uskglass had written a book: a book in a script known only to himself, and a book which had been lost for many centuries. And now that book was standing there in the middle of the room at the Old Starre Inn on a Wednesday evening! (Or at least half of the book was standing there, for Vinculus had been allowed only to bare himself to the waist, so as to preserve the eyes of young Miss Redruth; though her passionate declarations in favour of the Raven King suggested that she might have preferred to view the whole text, had she been allowed.)

The King's own words. Good heavens! Mr Segundus had never dreamed that such a thing would be possible; but then, so many things that had seemed out of reach but a year ago were now coming to pass. Why, the growing number of magicians in the country was a thing to be celebrated, and the amount of magic that was now possible was astounding. Mr Segundus had even done magic himself! (He still felt rather flustered with emotion when he thought about it.)

What an England they now lived in! Some of this change could be traced to the workings of Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, and an even greater portion of it could be traced to John Uskglass (for Vinculus had gleefully recited his former prophecy to all present); and yet it had to be acknowledged that there was also one other who seemed to be turning the wheels of progress:

John Childermass.

There he was, standing calmly amidst the choas of his own causing, and smiling as if this were but a usual evening for him. _He_ it was who had refounded the York Society, and _he_ it was who had discovered Vinculus' secret and had shared it with them. Those were two great feats, certainly; yet for Mr Segundus this was not all. No; when it came to Mr Segundus, had not Childermass been the one to change _everything_?

In the early days of their acquaintance, Mr Segundus had not known what to make of John Childermass. With his disreputable air and his confidence that bordered on haughtiness, he was not a man to make a good first impression. This was certainly not helped by his work for Mr Norrell: dissolving societies, buying up books, and closing emerging magical schools (regardless of how much the soon-to-be-schoolmaster might have set his heart on such a project).

However, the more one grew to know Childermass, the more one was able to peer past those actions that had been ordered by his now-former master and to instead discern those actions which were of Childermass' own devising. To do so was to reveal man of a very different character. For example, though Childermass had, on Mr Norrell's insistence, stopped Mr Segundus from setting up a school, Childermass had then, surprisingly, aided Mr Segundus quite readily in the establishment of a madhouse. Mr Segundus even fancied that Childermass had sent Lady Pole to Starecross not just because she was in distress and in need of help, but because, in some way, Childermass had thought it important that Mr Segundus, a magician, be the one to care for her. (Could it be that Childermass had suspected Lady Pole's enchantment even then?)

Any remaining doubts that Mr Segundus might have harboured as to Childermass' underlying qualities were dispelled when, barely one month ago, Childermass had come knocking on the door to Starecross Hall, bringing with him Lady Pole's finger, her rescue from Faerie, and Mr Segundus' rescue from a torment of a different kind.

Mr Segundus had performed magic! He, a theoretical magician only, had taken a spell that he had known of for years, and had suddenly watched it blossom to life in his hitherto-unskilled hands. And all at Childermass' urging! Childermass' determination had been due to the situation of the Lady, of course, and her recovery was certainly the thing to be most celebrated in the whole encounter, but, oh! there had been something about the look in Childermass' eyes, about his belief in Mr Segundus' capabilities (which belief had appeared so steadfast that it was verging on exasperation) that thrilled Mr Segundus whenever he remembered it.

And now, once again, no longer tethered by Mr Norrell's wishes, Childermass was here in York, making magicians of them all and bringing them the most magical thing to be seen in England these last five hundred years.

It was truly truly wonderful. Mr Segundus had tried to make his way through the tide of magicians surrounding Vinculus so that he might view the Raven King's writings for himself, but Mr Segundus was so short, and so unused to pushing people out of the way, that he got little more than the glimpse of an elbow covered in odd markings before he found himself swept back out of the throng. A second attempt had resulted in but the same conclusion, and so Mr Segundus had instead retreated to the dais at the end of the room (now almost empty) where he might observe the proceedings from afar.

By this point the meeting had been going on for at least an hour or more and, truth be told, the time was beginning to tell on Mr Segundus. He had been amazed and overjoyed both that evening, and he knew that he would very much like to study the King's book further in the future, but the continued noise and heat and bustle of the room were making him weary. Standing there on the dais he fancied that what he would like to do most of all was retire to Mr Honeyfoot's house (where he had been invited to spend the night) there to sit alone in his room and think quietly upon all that he had seen.

Alas, Mr Honeyfoot was at that moment ensconced in a corner of the room amongst a number of the newer members of the Society and was telling them about he and Mr Segundus' first meeting with Jonathan Strange, which story appeared to be getting a very enthusiastic reception if the commotion around Mr Honeyfoot was anything to go by. Mr Segundus had no desire to join such a vigorous discussion, yet he did not wish to leave the Old Starre Inn without Mr Honeyfoot either. It was just as Mr Segundus was wondering if he ought to make another attempt to view Vinculus (for though Mr Segundus did not fancy he had the strength for it, he did not rightly know when he might again be granted the same opportunity) that he found himself engaged in conversation.

"Good evening," said an amused voice.

Mr Segundus looked up to find John Childermass beside him, still wearing the wry smile that he had worn for most of the night.

"Oh." Mr Segundus bowed. "Good evening." He considered congratulating Childermass on his discovery, but Mr Segundus was suddenly struck by an observation. "My goodness!" exclaimed Mr Segundus, "Mr Childermass, your face!"

Childermass looked rather taken aback to be greeted in such a way. He frowned. "My face?"

Mr Segundus felt his cheeks heating. "Forgive me," he said. "I do not mean... It is just that I had not expected it to heal so quickly; it was very bad." He gave Childermass an encouraging smile. "But you are looking well and I am glad for it."

Childermass frowned some more.

"The cut," explained Mr Segundus, gesturing to Childermass' face. "On your cheek. It was rather large, and had bled very much when I saw you last." Mr Segundus went to say more, but hesitated, for he fancied that Childermass might for some reason be angry to have it mentioned.

Yet Childermass' expression was not angry at all; it had instead turned to surprise. "So it was," said Childermass wonderingly, pressing a hand to his cheek, where only a thin scar now lay. "So it was indeed. I had been so busy that I had forgotten all about it." He removed his hand and shook his head, but when he looked at Mr Segundus again, it was with a grin. "I suppose I must have given you half a fright to have appeared in such a state."

Mr Segundus wondered how to answer in a way that was still polite. "I was concerned," he admitted, "but you did not seem so worried by it at the time."

Childermass shrugged his shoulders. "It was but a trifle from a trifling man." He snorted and then seemed to dismiss the thought from his mind. "Now, you, Mr Segundus, are looking much better also. When I saw you last, you were very..." He cast his gaze about the room before it landed on Mr Segundus once more. "...faint, for want of a better word."

"Ah." Mr Segundus felt his cheeks heating again. "Lady Pole's enchantment had left me rather... You experienced it for yourself when you visited, of course. And over time it had... But I am well in myself now." He considered, for a moment, telling Childermass all that he had spent the past month doing, but he did not. Instead, Mr Segundus realised that there was one thing he had neglected to do. He bowed to Childermass again. "Thank you, Mr Childermass, for your help with Lady Pole, and for helping me to... to perform magic. It was an occasion of such moment that I know I will never have the words to describe how grateful I am."

When Mr Segundus raised his eyes once more, he found Childermass staring at him in a rather curious sort of way (on anyone else, such an expression might have been called embarrassment, though Childermass had never seemed the type of man to be troubled by that particular sentiment).

"The magic was your own," said Childermass after a moment, "and not mine. I brought the Lady's finger. I did not bring your skill."

Again, Mr Segundus found himself blushing very much. "Regardless..." he stammered. "Regardless, I ought to thank you for..."

"And how is Lady Pole?" asked Childermass. "Is she well?"

"Oh." Mr Segundus paused in the swell of his gratitude to consider the question. "Yes, I believe she is very well, thank you. Though she has not written in a while." He gave Childermass an apologetic smile. "As soon as she was certain that Mrs Strange and Stephen Black had been freed from their enchantment (Mrs Strange is well and in Italy currently; have you heard?) Lady Pole left Starecross to return to London; several weeks ago now. I thought perhaps that she missed her life there (and her husband, of course) and wished to return to it. But from what she has since told me, I fancy that what she wishes most is to be close to government." Mr Segundus hesitated, feeling rather guilty on her behalf. "Oh, I am certain she must be happy to be reunited with Sir Walter and her friends (how could she not be?) But I believe she also has a great many plans."

Childermass smiled widely. "I do not doubt it," he said. "I am sure she is very busy." He gave Mr Segundus a sly look. "And you, Mr Segundus? Are you busy?"

Mr Segundus frowned. It was an innocent question, but asked in a rather knowing way. Surely Childermass did not assume that Mr Segundus was the driving force behind Lady Pole's newfound zeal (for that was all her own), and surely Childermass could not... surely _no-one_ could think that Mr Segundus' conduct with regard to Lady Pole had been anything other than gentlemanly. But... no. Childermass was not a man to delight in baseless slander. Instead Childermass' interests lay in the direction of magic, and when it came to that, Mr Segundus' plans were... Did Childermass know? Had he guessed?

"I... ah," said Mr Segundus, unwilling to give too much away. "There is a lot to be done to the house, now that Lady Pole has left us."

"Of course," replied Childermass, all politeness, despite the amusement in his face.

Mr Segundus found himself growing yet more flustered, and so resolved to change the subject. "It was very good of you," said he, "to bring the Raven King's book here to us in York."

"No, Mr Segundus," replied Childermass firmly. "It is not _goodness_ that drives me." He fixed his black eyes upon Mr Segundus. "It is _necessity_."

Mr Segundus met the gaze, surprised by Childermass' sudden gravity. In that moment, Childermass' usual indifference and wry mirth seemed almost but a shallow front, veiling a man perhaps of great passion. But then Childermass looked over to Vinculus and the magicians surrounding him; a smile crawled up Childermass' face, and the mirth appeared once more. "I cannot read the King's writing," admitted Childermass with a shrug of the shoulders, "and neither can they. Not yet." He looked back to Mr Segundus. "But the more minds we have working on it, the sooner we will have a solution." He chewed on his cheek for a second and then added, "I will have you know that York is not the only society I mean to reconstitute. Indeed, I would even like to start societies where there weren't societies before. The book is the Raven King's gift to England, and we will need all of England's magicians if we are to read it."

How different a statement to anything that Mr Norrell might have made! Mr Segundus still couldn't shake the slightly-awed feeling that had stolen over him when Childermass had spoken of necessity. "That is very egalitarian of you," said Mr Segundus.

Childermass huffed a laugh. "It is merely the best course of action. The more magicians we have on our side, the more wisdom we can utilise." He looked across to Vinculus, where Dr Foxcastle was now loudly berating one of the newer members for standing on his foot. "Though wisdom comes more easily to some than to others."

Mr Segundus glanced at Dr Foxcastle, but couldn't quite release his attention from Childermass. Why, for all of Childermass' easy denial, Mr Segundus fancied that Childermass was indeed egalitarian in his motives. What a heartening thing. What an admirable thing! Indeed, so strong was this admiration of Mr Segundus' that before he knew it he found himself saying, "My patroness, Mrs Lennox, has been very kind to let me stay on at Starecross Hall now that Lady Pole is gone. If, Mr Childermass, you ever find you need a moment to rest in a quiet place (in between your showing Vinculus to various magical societies) you would be more than welcome to visit." Immediately upon saying this, Mr Segundus worried that it would sound as if he wished to have Vinculus and the King's book all to himself for several days (which, admittedly, was not an unappealing prospect), and so he quickly added, "Starecross is very secluded, as you know, which is why I thought... It was a very good location for a madhouse. Well, of course, and now that Lady Pole has gone I do not have the company that I... And so you would be welcome, Mr Childermass. But only if it is convenient to you to... I do not wish to presume..."

Childermass laughed. "Thank you," he said, "for the kind offer." He met Mr Segundus' eye. "And I may well take it up." Then with a nod and a smile he was gone, striding over to Vinculus, where it seemed that two opposing factions had now set themselves up, one to seemingly seek vengeance for the damage done to Dr Foxcastle's foot, and the other to protect the accused. "Gentlemen!" said Childermass. "I will not have you tiring Vinculus with these scuffles. Or perhaps you have finished looking at him and would like us to leave?"


	2. Chapter 2

_On a time when I was then full grown and each of my sisters a-married off, my mother did say to me, "Lettice, too long hast thou lived in this house, for thou dost not help me with mine work as much as thou ought. Nor dost thou help thy father and brothers with the beasts. See how thy sisters all have good husbands and do work with great toil and fruitfulness."_

_Much did I cry to hear such words for I did indeed help my mother and my father with their work, and I knew that such words came only from my mother's heartlessness and jealousy of my beauty and my wit._

_"See now," said my mother. "Here is Goodman Nicholas a tanner whom thou must marry. Beest thou a good wife to him and all will be well." Replied I that I would marry no tanner; bethought I butchery too much for my senses, and the foul muck of a tannery be far worse than that._

_"Unhappy daughter!" said my mother. "Think thou mayest choose? Indeed and a fine gentleman thou wouldst choose I doubt not. But what fine man will marry the youngest daughter of a butcher with neither dowry nor hard work to furnish her? Thou shalt have tanner Nicholas or I fear thou shalt have no husband at all."_

_"Then I shall have no husband at all," said I, "I will marry not Nicholas nor any other tanner put before me." My mother was full sore and chided me much, but marry Nicholas I did not._

***

The next morning Mr Segundus rose rather late (for he had pondered on the events at the Old Starre Inn so much on returning to his room at the Honeyfoots' house that it had been the small hours of the morning before he had retired to bed). Yet, late as he was, Mr Segundus was surprised to find that breakfast had not yet been served and that the breakfast table stood laid and waiting.

The only person present in the breakfast room was Mrs Honeyfoot, who was sitting by the window with her needlework. She jumped up as soon as Mr Segundus entered.

"Oh Mr Segundus!" she cried. "What a morning! What a day!" She took Mr Segundus' hands in her own and skipped a few steps, leading him nearly halfway across the room with it.

Mr Segundus was not the sort to relish starting the day with dancing, but Mrs Honeyfoot's exuberance was so bright that he found himself laughing along with her despite himself.

"Magicians again!" said Mrs Honeyfoot. "Oh, I can hardly believe it. What a wonderful thing to happen!" She bounced a little, then finally let Mr Segundus' hands go. "And now you may have fellow-magicians to talk with, Mr Segundus! Fellow-magicians!"

"Ah," said Mr Segundus, smiling. He held a hand to his side where it ached from exertion. "The York Society. Yes, Mrs Honeyfoot; they are all magicians once more." Swallowing, he looked around at the emptiness of the room. "And where is Mr Honeyfoot?"

"William is in the library," said Mrs Honeyfoot. "He ran there as soon as he woke this morning and I haven't seen him since." She frowned, though the effect was spoiled for she quickly laughed. "Pray, Mr Segundus, do please go and retrieve him or we shall never sit down to breakfast. Tell him we are half-starved and soon to expire." She laughed again and Mr Segundus (laughing in return) set out to do as he was bid.

In the library it looked as if almost every book had been taken off the shelves and opened to one page or another. There were books on the tables and books on the chairs and books on the floor. One book had even made its way to the windowsill, where it sat stuffed with several bookmarks. In the midst of all this chaos (on the only chair not taken up with books) sat Mr Honeyfoot. He was in his banyan and slippers with a cap upon his head, and he was so bent upon the book in his hands that he did not appear to notice when Mr Segundus entered the room.

Mr Segundus cleared his throat. "Mr Honeyfoot..."

"Oh!" Mr Honeyfoot looked up. "My dear friend! Come here. Come here!" He stood as Mr Segundus stepped closer and shook Mr Segundus vigorously by the hand. (Indeed, he clasped Mr Segundus' hand so tightly in both of his own that Mr Segundus fancied he might be led dancing for a second time that morning.)

"I am so glad you are awake," said Mr Honeyfoot, shaking Mr Segundus' hand once more. "There is so much we must discuss. Oh! I have years to catch up on! But no matter, no matter; I can make a start now. Ah, but that is where you must help me, my friend. I feel certain that I must try my hand at performing a spell (after all, it seems so possible nowadays, and you have performed magic yourself, of course) but I do not at all know what spell to choose. There are so many!" He gestured at the books strewn across the room. "You must help me pick a..."

Mr Segundus could not help but smile to see such enthusiasm. "Mr Honeyfoot," he said, squeezing Mr Honeyfoot's hand one last time before letting it go, "I am so very glad for you, and I most certainly will help you to choose a spell, but before I can I believe we must have breakfast first or Mrs Honeyfoot will lose her patience with us."

"Breakfast?" Mr Honeyfoot's eyes widened. He looked to the window. "I had clear forgot. But it is not so very late is it? Surely Mrs Honeyfoot can wait a little more."

Mr Segundus tried not to laugh. "It is near eleven in the morning," he said. "I am afraid I slept long."

Mr Honeyfoot gasped. "Eleven? Eleven? Can it truly be?" He glanced at his books. "But I only meant to read just a passage or two. Oh, what a ninnyhead I am!" He started to make his way across the floor, picking a path through the strewn books. "Come. Come," he called over his shoulder. "We can talk spells later. To think I have kept Jenny waiting for this long. She will have stern words for me, no doubt, and I deserve them!"

Yet Mrs Honeyfoot looked more happy than stern when her husband and Mr Segundus joined her in the breakfast room. They all three of them set upon their meal quickly, and as they did so Mrs Honeyfoot began to question Mr Honeyfoot and Mr Segundus about the meeting of the York Society and all that had occurred. (And from the nature of Mrs Honeyfoot's questions, it sounded rather as if she was, in fact, now quite familiar with the happenings of the previous evening and wished only to hear it all again.)

Thus Mr Honeyfoot and Mr Segundus recounted the numerous people at the meeting and the entry of Childermass. "Like a tatty, black crow," said Mr Honeyfoot, "he observed us all with his head on one side and a smile on his face as if he were thinking thoughts that we can only guess at. But perhaps he was merely amused at the scene we made, and by the way they were squabbling over Vinculus, I am not surprised."

"And he it was that made you all magicians again?" asked Mrs Honeyfoot.

"To a man," replied Mr Honeyfoot happily, nodding. "He said that Mr Norrell's contract with us was null and void. And, as you know, my dear, Childermass worked so closely with Mr Norrell that he would not be mistaken on such a point."

Mrs Honeyfoot laughed and clapped her hands. "Magicians all!" She cried. "Just think!" She leaned forward in her chair. "And the book? He brought a book? Mr Segundus, tell me about the book."

Mr Segundus wiped his mouth with a napkin. "The Raven King's book, madam. It was in the form of a book once upon a time, so Childermass said, but now it is in the form of a man: Vinculus, a street magician from London."

"There is writing all over his body!" interjected Mr Honeyfoot. "He is blue from head to toe; would you believe it?"

"And what does the writing say?" asked Mrs Honeyfoot.

"Ah," said Mr Segundus with a smile. "That we do not know." He looked to Mr Honeyfoot. "None of us can read it."

Mr Honeyfoot nodded. "I have told you about the King's letters before, my dear. Do you remember? No man living can read them, and no examples survive, save for Vinculus. And that is why Childermass brought us all together, I presume, so that we might work together to learn."

"You presume correctly," said Mr Segundus. "Childermass told me that he means to re-establish all of the magical societies that Mr Norrell closed down, and he wishes to create even more societies than there were before. I think he is very serious about using us all to find a translation."

Mr Honeyfoot's teacup rattled as it was returned to its saucer. "He said so?" asked Mr Honeyfoot, wide-eyed. "How wonderful! Though I do not remember hearing any such thing."

Mr Segundus coughed. "We talked a little," he admitted, feeling somehow guilty for being party to this extra information, "while the others were studying Vinculus. He told me something of his plans."

"Oh, my dear!" said Mr Honeyfoot, addressing his wife. "We shall have work for years to come! Imagine what discoveries we shall make!" He looked to Mr Segundus. "This is a new England in which we live, sir. It is a new England!" Mr Honeyfoot then proceeded to make a toast to his "new England", standing and raising his teacup. Laughing, Mrs Honeyfoot and Mr Segundus joined him.

Once breakfast was complete, Mr Honeyfoot and Mr Segundus returned to the library.

"Now then, sir," said Mr Honeyfoot, sitting down in his chair and picking up the book that he had left behind, but not opening it. "You must tell me all about this talk you had with Childermass yesterday. I had not realised you had both had a tête-à-tête. What else did he say?"

Again, Mr Segundus found himself feeling a little embarrassed that he had been able to talk with Childermass while Mr Honeyfoot had not. Mr Segundus sat down opposite Mr Honeyfoot, removing a pile of books from a chair cushion in order to do so.

"Well..." Mr Segundus looked down at the books in his hands. "We did not speak long, and I have already told you the most of it: Childermass wishes to read the King's letters and believes that the more magicians we have the easier this will be. That was when he told me that he wished to create more magical societies."

"That does not sound like a very Norrellite wish," said Mr Honeyfoot with a pleased look.

"No," agreed Mr Segundus. "It does not."

"And that was all that was said?" asked Mr Honeyfoot.

Mr Segundus hesitated.

"Ah. I see it was not." Mr Honeyfoot raised his eyebrows. "Come. What is it?"

Mr Segundus hesitated further. He swallowed. "I think, perhaps... Though I do not know it... But I... You may think me foolish."

Mr Honeyfoot frowned.

"You see," said Mr Segundus, "we exchanged some pleasantries, and I... Well, I invited Childermass to visit Starecross Hall."

"My dear Mr Segundus!" cried Mr Honeyfoot, standing out of his chair. "Do you...? Oh dear, I do not know what to think." He sat back down with a concerned look. "I know one must be polite, but was that... wise?"

"It... It felt like a good idea at the time," said Mr Segundus, feeling himself grow rather red.

"Yes, but your school! Did you tell Childermass about your plans to open a school? What if he finds out?"

"There is no doubt about that," said Mr Segundus, shaking his head. "He will most certainly find out when he visits Starecross, if not before." Mr Segundus stared down at the books in his hands. "Indeed, I think he might already know."

"You told him?" asked Mr Honeyfoot in surprise.

"No," said Mr Segundus. "No, I did not; it did not enter our conversation at all, but..." He looked up. "From the way Childermass spoke (from his tone, that is) it sounded as if he already knew every one of my plans." Mr Segundus sighed and shrugged. "I am not that surprised, truth be told; he knew about my plans for a school of magic before."

"Yes!" said Mr Honeyfoot. "And what came of it then? He shut down your school without a thought!"

"Mr Norrell shut down my school," corrected Mr Segundus.

"And who did Norrell send to do it?" asked Mr Honeyfoot. "Oh no. Oh no no no. I do not like the sound of this. You must rescind your invitation, Mr Segundus. Why, and if that is too difficult for you, you are welcome to offer that Childermass visit us here instead."

Mr Segundus looked at him. "That is very kind of you, Mr Honeyfoot. Very kind. But I... Even so, I think I will let my original invitation stand."

"Oh," said Mr Honeyfoot. "You are certain?"

Mr Segundus nodded. "Yes. I am." He sighed. "As I say, I believe Childermass already knows about my plans for a school of magic, and if he does not know them yet, he will doubtless come to know them soon, whether he visits Starecross or no." He could see that Mr Honeyfoot was preparing to make an objection, and so Mr Segundus continued. "It is my hope... No; it is my _belief_ that Childermass will not attempt to close my school for a second time."

"I sincerely hope you are correct," said Mr Honeyfoot, "but..."

"It was the way Childermass spoke," explained Mr Segundus. "About his wanting to create more magical societies and his desire to read the King's letters. I think he may be a very different man to his master. Very different. It was, after all, Mr Norrell who shut down my school before, not Childermass. And even as Childermass followed through on Mr Norrell's orders to shut down my school, Childermass told me that he regretted it. He said that he wanted to help me if he could. And he did; he sent me Lady Pole."

"Helping a madhouse and helping a school are two different things," cautioned Mr Honeyfoot.

"Yes," said Mr Segundus. "I know. But Childermass also encouraged me to perform magic for the first time. For the first time, Mr Honeyfoot! He..." Here Mr Segundus paused and cleared his throat. "Consider," said Mr Segundus, "Childermass has found the Raven King's book, but he hasn't hidden him away; instead Childermass has brought Vinculus out for the world to see."

"You have faith in Childermass then?" asked Mr Honeyfoot.

"I do." Mr Segundus looked him in the eye. "Perhaps it is presumptuous of me, especially with all that has gone before, but I do."

"Well then." Mr Honeyfoot huffed. "Let the invitation to Starecross stand. You must do as you see fit, sir. But if Childermass visits Starecross and starts making trouble, you must tell me immediately, and Mrs Lennox too. We neither of us will stand for any nonsense, I am sure. We had enough of that the first time."

Mr Segundus flushed. "Thank you, Mr Honeyfoot. I hope that won't be necessary, but thank you for your support."

Mr Honeyfoot smiled. "That is what friends are for, is it not? Now then..." He coughed and opened the book on his lap. "It is you who must support I today, for I still do not know what spell I ought to try first. I had thought I would decide upon a spell quickly before breakfast, but..." He waved a hand at the chaos in the room with a guilty expression.

Laughing, Mr Segundus agreed to help, and they set upon the enjoyable task of turning Mr Honeyfoot from a theoretical magician into a practical one.


	3. Chapter 3

_Much sorrow did I have in my father's house after I did refuse to take Nicholas the tanner for a husband, for my mother chid me over and again._

_Vain, she called me, and lazy and proud. "See this girl," said she to my father. "She is surely thy child and not mine, for never does she help with the animals but thinks her too good to work so. By which means she hopes somehow to catch some fine husband that she need work no more."_

_How I did cry and plead with my father. "I do not desire some great husband and I work as much as I am able, but this butchery be too foul for my senses, in which have a delicacy above others."_

_"If thou scornest my trade," said my father, "thou scornest also the bread upon thy table and the clothes upon thy back. Where do they come from but my labours? If help thou will not, then married thou must be, but to whom I cannot answer. Dowry I had not to give to thy sisters and dowry I have not to give to thee." And he called daughters useless things that sought only to burden his purse and his mind._

***

For the next few weeks Mr Segundus was very busy at Starecross Hall. His time was utterly taken up with the setting up of his proposed school, for he had discovered that the needs of a school were very different to the needs of a madhouse. He found that new sets of furniture must be bought, and new servants must be hired, and even new wallpaper must be put upon the walls.

Mr Segundus was not entirely easy with laying out so much money for all of these things when, in truth, the items purchased for Lady Pole could have been adapted to the purpose, but his patroness Mrs Lennox was very explicit about what she expected of the school and what she wanted, to the extent of sending him lists of the items he must purchase.

Despite the sums of money required (of which Mrs Lennox supplied him without complaint) Mr Segundus found himself pleasantly industrious. He did not even have much time to consider the unexpected events surrounding the reestablishment of the York Society of Magicians, save that an extra joy and excitement now seemed to accompany his every task.

Yet there came a time when those events in York suddenly reminded themselves to Mr Segundus without his prompting. You see, it so happened that about three weeks after Mr Segundus had returned to Starecross, he received a letter from none other than John Childermass himself. The letter was short and to the point:

"Sir,

"After your kind offer in York, I intend for Vinculus and myself to visit Starecross Hall on Tuesday next, if this is agreeable to you.

"J. Childermass."

Initially Mr Segundus was rather surprised to receive such a thing. In the whirlwind of his preparations he had rather forgotten that he had invited Childermass to Starecross at all, and he certainly hadn't thought that Childermass would take him up on the invitation so soon.

Despite the surprise, however, Mr Segundus found himself quite excited to consider it. Just imagine! Vinculus, there at Starecross Hall, and presumably for several days. What an honour that was! What a chance to study the King's words! And would it not be nice to speak with Childermass again and discover more of his plans?

Mr Segundus wrote back immediately to say that the visit would indeed be agreeable to him, but that he must needs obtain the permission of his landlady first, for the house and the hospitality were hers to give and not his own. He dispatched a letter to Mrs Lennox with the same post.

Thankfully, Mrs Lennox did not take long to reply. She agreed to Childermass and Vinculus visiting, though she did not sound entirely enthused about the prospect.

"I am surprised, sir," she had written, "that you would be happy to invite Childermass to Starecross, given all that occurred before and the great trouble he put us through. You tell me that you do not believe he will close our school for a second time, but I must admit I do not have your faith in the goodness of others. I fear for the investment we have made and, more importantly, I fear for the unhappiness he may bring you.

"However, you say that all has changed, that Childermass has returned magicianship to York, and that there are new discoveries made about the Raven King, which discoveries I do not pretend to understand. I am no magician, and thus I shall defer to your judgement in this matter. Invite him if you must. I cannot say that I truly like the idea, but if this visit improves the notoriety of our school then that will be worth something.

"May all go well. But do not forget that Childermass has no authority in Starecross, no matter what he might say or do. If he makes even the smallest mention of stopping up our school you must eject him from the property. Send to the village for the constable if necessary."

This letter did not fill Mr Segundus with confidence, but consent was consent, and so Mr Segundus wrote to Childermass, inviting him to arrive on the intended day.

Thus Mr Segundus set about ensuring that two bedrooms were made up for guests, that the housekeeper would procure enough supplies to feed them, and that everything else was done to prepare for their visit.

How might Mr Segundus' thoughts be described on the eve of their arrival? He was excited and nervous both. The thought of learning about magic (and indeed Mr Segundus could not forget the magic he had performed the last time Childermass had visited) and of being so close to the King's book was wonderful. And yet Mrs Lennox's letter had tempered Mr Segundus' excitement somewhat. What if Childermass truly meant to close down the school? Or what if, perhaps, Childermass did not mean to close down the school but merely found it to be an amateurish and bad undertaking? What, even, if Mr Segundus' company was not to Childermass' liking and they spent their time in nothing but uncomfortable silence?

Regardless of Mr Segundus' fears, time passed on and the appointed day was soon upon him. That day (a mild but cloudy one) at some point in the afternoon, a servant, Tom, came to tell Mr Segundus that his guests had arrived (and from the look upon Tom's face, the guests weren't at all the gentlemen he had been expecting).

Mr Segundus, feeling not a little anxious, made his way down to the hall, only to be told that the guests had not entered the house but had gone to the stables. This was a little surprising, but Mr Segundus headed out to the stables and there he found Childermass, who was at that moment removing the saddle from his horse. Childermass was in the same coat that he had been in when Mr Segundus had last seen him, his boots were dusty, and he had taken off his scuffed hat and overcoat and had hung them on a peg while he worked.

"Ah. Good day, Mr Childermass," said Mr Segundus as he came closer. He stopped at the entrance to the stall that Childermass was using and bowed. "I shall send someone to see to your horse, so you need not trouble yourself. Will you come inside?"

Childermass turned around, using the back of a wrist to push his hair out of his eyes. "Good day, sir." His bow was sketchy and his smile was the wry one that Mr Segundus was used to. "There's no need to send a man to help. Brewer and I will be fine by ourselves." He patted the horse on the neck.

This, Mr Segundus was not expecting. "Oh," he said. "Of course. But please do come into the drawing room when you are done and we shall have tea served. I am sure you must both be hungry." Mr Segundus looked around. "Where is Vinculus?"

Childermass shrugged, as if he neither knew nor cared about the answer, and pointed to the side of the house. "He went that way. I'd check your kitchen if I were you."

This Mr Segundus was not expecting either. It was true that he wasn't very used to receiving guests, but he felt certain that having to ferret out said guests from all corners of the property merely so that he might greet them on arrival was rather unusual.

Childermass might have noticed something of Mr Segundus' confusion, for he laughed. "I shall see you in the drawing room," he said, smiling, and this time he gave a proper bow. "It is very kind of you to provide tea for us, and indeed it was very kind of you to invite us in the first place." He met Mr Segundus' eye. "Thank you."

"Ah." Mr Segundus bowed again in return. "Not at all. It is my pleasure." Feeling no less flustered than he had been when he entered the stables, Mr Segundus now left for the kitchen.

Unfortunately, the scene in the kitchen did nothing to help his nerves. He found Vinculus (still in his hat, overcoat and boots) sitting at the kitchen table, eating a plate of bread and butter and drinking a mug of beer.

"Oh," said Mr Segundus, bowing again, and trying not to let his disappointment show, as it truly wasn't any fault of Vinculus' own. "Good day, Vinculus. I had intended for... There was going to be tea in the drawing room. I had thought we could take tea together, rather than your being obliged to eat by yourself in the... But no matter. You are welcome to join us for dinner later. I would have you to know that you are an esteemed guest in this house. Indeed, I am honoured to have you here."

Vinculus appeared rather amused to hear such a thing. "Honoured!" he exclaimed and laughed. But he raised his mug in salute and took a gulp. "Thank you, sir, for your kindness, and your housekeeper has been kind also." Here, he stopped for a moment and gave Mr Segundus a long look. "We met in London," he declared after a moment. "You visited me in Threadneedle Street."

"Ah," said Mr Segundus. "You remember?"

Vinculus continued to stare at him, almost as if Mr Segundus were a puzzle that he was trying to work out.

Mr Segundus fidgeted under the gaze. "You told me about the prophecy," prompted Mr Segundus, "that two magicians would return magic to England."

"Yes," admitted Vinculus, watching him. "That was the prophecy I used to carry."

"And... ah, what message do you carry now?" asked Mr Segundus hopefully.

Vinculus stared at him some more, then after several long moments shrugged and took another gulp of beer. "Who's to say? Go ask _him_." Vinculus nodded in the direction of the door to the yard and the stables. "He's the one trying to find out." After which, apparently deeming the conversation to be over, Vinculus returned to his bread and butter and said no more.

Feeling rather disappointed by this answer, but not wanting to disturb Vinculus' meal further, Mr Segundus retired to the drawing room, there to await tea and hopefully at least one of his guests.

Some while later, as Mr Segundus was sitting and reading (though not truly paying his book much mind), the drawing room door opened and through it stepped Childermass. He was now in house shoes rather than boots and it looked as if he had taken a moment to wash his face and hands, and comb his hair.

Mr Segundus stood. "You have found your room, Mr Childermass?" he asked. "I hope it is comfortable enough; we don't often have guests, you see, and..."

Childermass grinned. "For several weeks now, Vinculus and I have stayed in this inn or that, sharing a bed most times. I can assure you that the room you have provided for me is bliss in comparison."

"I am glad," said Mr Segundus, trying not to imagine what the realities of sharing a bed with Vinculus would be like. He gestured at the chair beside his own. "Please sit down." Then Mr Segundus rang for the tea things to be brought in. "I'm afraid Vinculus won't be joining us," said Mr Segundus, sitting down himself, "because he has already eaten in the kitchen. And while, of course, I do not mind his eating when and where he wishes, I do hope you both know that I intend for you to be treated as guests in this house, not as servants."

Childermass, who had smiled at the mention of Vinculus in the kitchen, now grew serious. "Thank you," he said, catching Mr Segundus' eye, "sir. Your hospitality does not go unnoticed. As I say, Vinculus and I have been spending our time at inns and, while bearable, it can grow tiring, for we are travelling much. The comfort you have offered is very welcome. Indeed, it is surprising, for while I don't doubt that many of your colleagues would be happy to be close to Vinculus I doubt many would suffer to put us up in their houses."

Mr Segundus frowned and shook his head. "I would not call it suffering. It is an honour to have you here. It truly is."

At this Childermass frowned himself and he subjected Mr Segundus to a long, almost-searching look, which was broken only by the entrance of the maid with the tea.

And so tea was served, and was drunk, and bread and butter eaten also, and all the while not one thing was said save the necessary 'May I?'s and 'Please's and 'Thank you's that must attend any shared meal.

Childermass' frown had decreased, which was a welcome thing. Instead he seemed much taken up with looking about him, turning his head this way and that as if to appraise the wallpaper, the furniture, the curtains.

Mr Segundus found himself growing more fretful with every silent minute that passed. Childermass had made no mention of the changes that had been made to Starecross since his last visit nor the clear signs that preparations for some large undertaking were in motion. Surely he must have had some thoughts as to what those preparations heralded, but Childermass said nothing.

Perhaps Childermass was waiting only for the right moment. Perhaps in letting the silence stretch out he was increasing the delight he would take in crushing Mr Segundus' dreams for a second time. Perhaps the silence would last so long that it would be days before Mr Segundus was forced to suffer Childermass' judgement!

Mr Segundus could not bear it. If it was his fate to be disappointed again, he would much rather that disappointment came sooner than later. Therefore Mr Segundus decided to put an end to his agonies there and then. He set his teacup down in its saucer and said, "You are thinking perhaps that this room is a little feminine in style? It was Lady Pole's drawing room. Now that she has gone, I have taken it for my own use. And I have told Mrs Lennox that there is no point in redecorating this room when it will be used only by myself and my guests." He paused and watched Childermass for a response, who did nothing more than meet Mr Segundus' eye.

"This room will be too small for the use of my pupils, you see," continued Mr Segundus, attempting to stop his hands from trembling. "It is the hope of myself and Mrs Lennox that we shall have near thirty of them." He raised his chin. "For we mean to open a school here very soon. A school of magic."

Childermass' mouth quirked. He held Mr Segundus' gaze.

Mr Segundus, meanwhile, held his breath.

Childermass' smile grew the wider. "So," he said, "you tell me immediately. I wondered when you might."

Mr Segundus felt himself growing rather red. "You knew?"

"Of course," replied Childermass casually, taking a sip of tea. "And you are not surprised to hear that."

Mr Segundus felt his spirits deflating. "No," he admitted. "I am not. Then you mean to close down my school again? I am not surprised to hear that either."

"On the contrary." Childermass took up the last of his bread, chewed it and swallowed. He met Mr Segundus' eye. "I have no desire to hinder your endeavour."

Mr Segundus' heart began to race once more. He stared at Childermass. "You do not?"

"Why should I?" Childermass held up a hand to stall Mr Segundus' objection. "I am no longer Mr Norrell's man, sir. Now I may do as I please. And it pleases me to have new schools of magic established in England, for it pleases me to have England's new magicians trained well. Indeed, I should like them all to understand magic to the fullest, including its dangers and its opportunities."

"Oh," said Mr Segundus.

"And while," continued Childermass, "I welcome all magical schools, I would particularly welcome a school run by a competent and knowledgeable master, who is both well-versed in his field and well-regarded by his fellow-magicians." He gave Mr Segundus a significant look.

Mr Segundus grew yet redder than before. "Oh," he said again. "Well, I... That is... I hope that, with application, I may become the type of school-master you seek."

Childermass laughed. "I do not doubt that you will." He drank the last of his tea, then stood. "Come now; let us find Vinculus, for I imagine you would appreciate the chance to study him further."

Blushing still, Mr Segundus agreed readily and, thanking Childermass for the opportunity, followed him into the kitchen.


	4. Chapter 4

_So grieved was I and so chidden by my mother and my father had I been, that I resolved upon that time to leave the butchers shop and seek me some other life. My mother did chide me more to hear my new desire and called me foolish to head out into the country alone but I cared not for her jealousy, such as her chiding was._

_And so I took with me the clothes upon my back and half a loaf of good bread and set I forth out of the town. To West Hall I went, with good cheer even inspite of the labour I had through the mud on the roads._

_No foolish girl was I and no foolish plan did I follow, for I had long bethought me on what to do with myself. Thought I that to be a serving maiden would suit me well for I could live in a fine house and mix with good company. And I knew better than to choose me some cruel master, for which reason I set my thoughts upon Mistress Nugent, a widow who in West Hall lived._

_Many times had I seen Mistress Nugent pass through St Albans and a right lady she looked with her furs and her fine clothes. Bethought I that a rich and kindly widow for a mistress would suit me well._

_At West Hall I was met by the cook. "Away with you," said she. "We shall not buy your wares." "You are mistaken, goodwoman. I have not wares to sell." "Then away with you all the more." Which rejection set me to a great weeping and lamenting of my fate, for home I would not go, and elsewhere I durst not try, and all my bread was eaten. The cook, seeing my distress and hearing of my father's trade, took pity on me and set me to mind the hogs in the yard._

***

It seems that Mr Segundus' fears about Childermass' visit were for naught. Once it had been established that Childermass had no intention of stopping up Mr Segundus' school, things became much more easy between them.

Oh, certainly, things did not become _entirely_ easy, for Childermass' manner was still of the wry sort, his speech bold enough and his wit dry enough that Mr Segundus was sometimes uncertain as to whether something Childermass said was in jest or no. But their interactions were not anyway near as uncomfortable as Mr Segundus had worried they might be.

Indeed, Mr Segundus rather found that he and Childermass shared a similarity of temperament when it came to their attitudes to work and to magic. Childermass, Mr Segundus happily discovered, was much more studious than his wild appearance might suggest. Instead of complaining to Mr Segundus about a lack of diversion and interest at the secluded Starecross Hall, Childermass seemed quite content to spend several hours at a time looking over his papers and looking over Vinculus (at which work Mr Segundus joined him eagerly).

Together in their quest to understand the King's writings, they sat in a silence that was not awkward but companionable, each putting forth suggestions when he had them, but each happy to work on his own thoughts when he did not. Childermass, it must be said, received every one of Mr Segundus' suggestions with good grace: had Childermass thought to make a project of transcription? Might those transcriptions be published? Could not the procurement of some books upon code-breaking be useful? (Indeed, Childermass received some of the proffered suggestions with great enthusiasm.)

There was, it seemed, more to Childermass than met the eye. Of cruelty, and malice, Mr Segundus could spy none in Childermass' character. Nor was there impatience either. Humour, and wry scorn he had for actions he thought foolish (which scorn, such as at Dr Foxcastle's pomposity, appeared to Mr Segundus not to be misplaced) but Mr Segundus did not once seem to bring that scorn upon himself, despite the fact that he was certain he must have said foolish things to Childermass here and there.

No. Childermass' treatment of Mr Segundus was always tempered with politeness and respect. He listened to what Mr Segundus had to say and accepted Mr Segundus' points as valid, even if it was a subject upon which they disagreed (which disagreements, with the both of them putting forward their differing opinions, happened to be rather invigorating).

Mr Segundus, likewise, tried to be as respectful as possible, ensuring that his guests were treated well and putting a stop to any grumbling from those of his staff who were a little too nice about the gentlemanly ways they thought a guest ought to possess.

It was, all in all, very pleasant. Indeed, Mr Segundus' respect for Childermass grew the more Mr Segundus came to know him. Why, Childermass' knowledge and practical skills were far greater than Mr Segundus had first thought (Childermass' acquaintance with Mr Norrell's library, it seems, had been extensive and long-lived) and Childermass' conversation was both sensible and intelligent. So great did Mr Segundus' respect grow, in fact, that before long he was asking Childermass for his opinions and advice on matters relating to the upcoming school.

And so Childermass' and Vinculus' visit passed in this happy vein, with days of study and evenings of enjoyable companionship, peppered throughout with discussions of magical education and (when they could not help themselves) attempts at performing various spells.

It was during one of their evenings by the fireside, in which they had been discussing many things, that Mr Segundus was thinking just how fortuitous it was that Vinculus' book had fallen into the hands of a man like Childermass, rather than a man like Norrell. Mr Segundus didn't voice these thoughts but what he did say was, "Tell me, Mr Childermass, how did you say you discovered the writing upon Vinculus? In the meeting at York you said something about... But perhaps I misheard. It sounded rather terrible."

Childermass shook his head. "You did not mishear, sir. Vinculus was hanged. I saw him swinging from the tree."

Mr Segundus shuddered. He looked to Vinculus, worried that he might be feeling rather distressed to hear such a thing discussed, but Vinculus, who was in the chair closest to the fire, was asleep.

"In fact, it was not too far from here," continued Childermass. "After I had left yourself and Lady Pole I took the road north. Do you know it?"

"I have travelled down that road a little way," said Mr Segundus, "but not far. It leads deep into the moors."

Childermass nodded. "Some way into the moors I came upon a hawthorn tree. Vinculus was hanging from it, stripped to the waist with the markings clear upon his skin. I thought him dead but..." He frowned as if seeking a memory. "But he was not yet dead. I cut him down and he soon recovered." He frowned some more. "It was snowing... Yes. Yes it was."

Mr Segundus frowned himself. "Who would do such a thing? Try to kill a man, I mean. I am assuming you had thwarted an attempt at murder and not... not..."

"Not a judgement of the law?" finished Childermass. "To be truthful with you, I wouldn't have been surprised if the law _had_ come after Vinculus, even though it is hardly fair to charge a cold and hungry man for the minor thefts necessity may have driven him to."

Mr Segundus looked over to Vinculus again, feeling an even greater regret for the things Vinculus must have suffered over the years. He had looked as if he was living a hard life back when Mr Segundus had met him on Threadneedle Street in his cold and dingy, little booth, so goodness knows how Vinculus had made ends meet after Norrell had ejected all the street magicians from London.

"I asked Vinculus about the circumstances of his hanging, after he had recovered," continued Childermass. "It seems it was not the law which caught him but two men who meant him ill; or rather, one man who meant him ill and another who appeared to wish to stop the evil if he could (though in this he was evidently not successful)." Childermass huffed. "Vinculus didn't seem particularly alarmed to recount the tale. If anything, he spoke of the whole encounter with a degree of frustration, as if he was merely annoyed that these two men had stopped him from going about his business."

Mr Segundus turned to Childermass. "But who were the men? Why would one of them have wanted to do such a thing? Did he mean to get his hands on the King's letters?"

"That was my first thought," agreed Childermass, "but they would hardly have left Vinculus for me to find if the writing on his skin had been the motive. As to who the two men were, Vinculus, did not seem to care. One he knew, or had met before: Vinculus described him to me as a black man who was soon to be a king; an unlikely possibility, though Vinculus refused to explain any further. The other Vinculus did not know, despite he being the one who had instigated the evil deed. He apparently had the appearance of a gentleman in a green coat."

Mr Segundus took a breath. Could it be? "A black man and a gentleman in a green coat?" he asked. "My goodness! Was it bright green? The green of spring?"

Childermass frowned. "What does it matter, the colour of his coat?"

"Oh, it matters very much!" replied Mr Segundus. "Because I believe I have seen them! For all the world, they sound just like Stephen Black (that is Lady Pole's butler, who was enchanted with her) and the fairy who did the enchanting!"

Childermass went very still. He turned to Mr Segundus with a searching look. "You are sure? This was the fairy?"

Mr Segundus nodded. "I saw them! Shortly after..." His eyes widened. "Mr Childermass, when did you say you found Vinculus?"

"About an hour after I left this house," said Childermass. "After we had broken the enchantment upon Lady Pole."

"Then it must be they!" said Mr Segundus, nearly rising from his chair in excitement. "It was not long after you left that I saw them here. Lady Pole and I both saw them!"

Childermass looked rather alarmed. "The fairy came here?"

"Oh, yes," said Mr Segundus, nodding. "I think he meant Lady Pole some malice. The anger in his eyes was... He must have realised that she was no longer in his thrall and so wanted to do her harm!"

"But how did you stop them?" asked Childermass.

"I?" Mr Segundus paused, feeling himself turn red. He cleared his throat. "No, Mr Childermass. I did nothing. Lady Pole wanted me to engage the fairy in magical combat and, bless me, though I have not the skills I would have tried it for her sake." He shook his head. "But there was no need. As the fairy was crossing the bridge into the village, the bridge itself rose up and tossed him into the river. He was swept away and Stephen Black ran after him but..."

Childermass looked at him.

"It was strange," continued Mr Segundus, "but there was something very powerful about Mr Black in that moment. He was wearing a crown and carrying an orb and sceptre (perhaps, if you forgive me, this was the kingship that Vinculus meant when he spoke of him) but it wasn't those accoutrements that made Mr Black seem powerful. Rather, he..." Mr Segundus met Childermass' eye. "I think Mr Black did it. I think he defeated the fairy himself."

"He is a magician?" asked Childermass.

Mr Segundus shook his head. "I hadn't known that he was, but only a magician could overcome a fairy in that way. And it felt as if the landscape, as if Yorkshire itself, submitted to him. You will think me odd for saying so, but it felt as if everything around us was holding its breath, waiting for nothing else but to see what Stephen Black would do next."

"I do not think it odd," said Childermass in all seriousness. "And what did Stephen Black do?"

"I do not know," admitted Mr Segundus. "Lady Pole and I followed after them along the river bank, but we soon lost them. Perhaps magic sped them on. I thought to return to the house, for Lady Pole was still recovering and I did not want her to overtax her strength, but she would not be satisfied until she had found them again." Mr Segundus gave Childermass a guilty smile. "And so we continued along the bank until... It was odd, but the river was growing wider and the current slower than I had ever remembered it being. Some little way afterwards we found the cause: a great hill was standing in the middle of the river, blocking it almost all the way so that a small lake had formed and only a little water seeped through to the other side. That the hill was new there could be no doubt; I had never seen it on my walks before, and it was covered with no grass, only bare earth."

Childermass was watching Mr Segundus with such intensity that Mr Segundus could feel himself growing red again.

"The atmosphere of the place was very magical; both Lady Pole and I felt it. This, we fancied, must have been the site of some great struggle, though where either of the combatants were, I did not know. Yet Lady Pole appeared satisfied. She climbed up the hill to its peak and sat there for a long time. Eventually she pronounced that the wicked enchanter (as she called him) was gone and that Stephen Black was safe. She could not explain to me how she had discovered such a thing other than that she felt it." Mr Segundus shrugged. "There must have been something in the air, perhaps, or something about her long enchantment that had left her sensitive to their fates. But she at least seemed contented enough then to return to the house, which I was glad of, for it was very cold that day and we had not one overcoat between us."

"Have you gone back there since?" asked Childermass.

"Several times," replied Mr Segundus, nodding, "but I am none-the-wiser as to what happened in that place." He had a thought. "Would you like to see it for yourself, Mr Childermass? I could take you tomorrow if you wish."

"I would like that," agreed Childermass. "I would like that very much."

And so the next day, as soon as they had breakfasted, Mr Segundus and Childermass set out along the river. The weather was overcast, with birds calling beneath the low sky, though it was not nearly as cold as it had been when Mr Segundus and Lady Pole had first made the journey.

Childermass was silent as they walked, sniffing the air and looking about himself.

When at last they came to the place where the new hill straddled the river, it looked much the same as it had the last time Mr Segundus had visited, save that the lake appeared now wider and deeper, and the hill was covered with a scanty layer of young grass.

Childermass looked up at the hill and sucked on his teeth. Then he strode forwards and began to climb. Mr Segundus followed after him.

"Do you feel it?" asked Mr Segundus as, breathing heavily, he reached the top where Childermass stood surveying the land around them. "There's an odd sensation standing on this hill: the skin tingles as if it is too hot or too cold or too something else."

Childermass turned and appraised him for a few moments. "I do not feel that," Childermass admitted, "but I can see that you do. Your hair is standing on end."

"Oh!" said Mr Segundus. "Is it?" He put his hands to his head and felt that this was indeed the case. He tried to smooth his hair back down.

Thankfully, Childermass appeared to be too thoughtful to find the sight amusing. He turned and looked out along the river. "I can't feel it as you do," he said, "but I can taste it. In the air... There's a bite to it; a bitterness."

Intrigued, Mr Segundus opened his mouth and smacked his lips together, but he found he could taste nothing.

They looked at one another.

"This is an interesting place," said Childermass. "You should bring your pupils here. Together you might be able to find what has become of Stephen Black." He nodded. "And it is a good reminder of the dangers that fairies can bring."

"That is an excellent idea," said Mr Segundus. "I shall. Thank you."

"But if I were you," continued Childermass with a sideways look, "I would warn them not to dig into this hill, nor to bathe in that lake yonder." He gave a grim smile. "I do not know what magic we are feeling on this hill, but something tells me that it would be wise not to seek after the source of it."

Mr Segundus agreed readily with this sensible piece of advice, and soon they climbed back down the hill.

The walk back to Starecross Hall was a pleasant one, filled with discussions on the magic of the Yorkshire countryside and the features in the landscape that a new student of magic ought to study. Mr Segundus found himself discreetly touching his hair every now and then, relieved to feel that it was lowering by degrees into its normal pattern. If Childermass noticed this action, he said nothing, but several times Mr Segundus spotted Childermass watching him with a smile.


	5. Chapter 5

_Mistress Nugent was a right high and graceful Lady. After but a month at West Hall I was bidden to work in the house and to wash clothes and to sweep floors and to tend fires and all other tasks most menial. Yet upon my work I set gladly thereto for I could in my new duties observe my mistress and discover more fully her fine way of living._

_Of family my mistress had none save a husband of her daughter, which daughter had sometime passed into heaven. This daughter's husband, of name Philip, would visit on a time and eat at table with my mistress, which she disliked, for I heard her speak about him when he was not present. Right haughty she called him, he thinking himself to be above her station though in St Albans only he dwelt. And as the daughter of my mistress was dead there was no love between them save on the barest terms of family and duty._

_Much greater was the affection of my mistress for her companion, by name Mistress Duval. They did spend most of their time in solitude and contemplation, for their guests were few and their excursions few also._

_This contemplation was of a sort most particular and most noble, that is to say they were of them both inclined to the practise of magic. Of such thing I knew well, for I had espied them at the performing of spells on more than one occasion._

***

Two pleasant weeks passed before Childermass finally announced that he and Vinculus must now leave and continue their journey across the country. Mr Segundus was rather disappointed to hear such a thing. Certainly, he knew that Childermass had a lot of plans and meant to show Vinculus to a lot of people, and certainly Mr Segundus knew it was in the very nature of hosting guests that they must leave at some point, but he was surprised at how melancholy the thought of their leaving made him. Without Childermass and Vinculus, Mr Segundus would be left alone with no companions save the house, the servants (who did not care to discuss magic) and all the work that must be undergone before a school could be opened.

When at last the sun rose upon the day that Childermass and Vinculus were to leave, Mr Segundus found himself in a particular lowness of spirits. They breakfasted together quietly and then Childermass headed out to the stables to saddle his horse (for he had still not, since that first day, allowed anyone to tend to the beast but himself).

Mr Segundus gave Vinculus a parcel of food to take with them for the journey, and upon Vinculus' immediately opening the parcel to inspect (and perhaps sample) the contents, Mr Segundus revised his plans and sent a second parcel out to Childermass via one of the housemaids.

Soon enough Mr Segundus heard the sound of hoofsteps in the courtyard at the front of the house and, issuing out of the front door, Mr Segundus and Vinculus found Childermass leading his horse into the yard by the bridle.

Vinculus stretched, huffed and then sauntered over to Childermass. Mr Segundus bowed to them both.

"Thank you," said Mr Segundus, "for visiting. I have appreciated your company very much."

Childermass bowed in return. "Thank you, sir, for the hospitality." Then he put his foot in the stirrup and climbed up into the saddle.

Mr Segundus watched this action solemnly. His chest felt unusually heavy and there was a hollowness in his throat. He swallowed. "I will miss you," he said, overcome with a sudden desire to voice the sentiment. "Today, and in the days ahead." Yet, despite the truth of these words (and they were very true!) Mr Segundus worried then that he might have sounded a little too petulant. "I have grown used to intelligent conversation and interesting study," he clarified. "I know of no man who would part with those easily."

If the sentiment _was_ petulant, Childermass did not seem to mind it. He smiled at Mr Segundus from atop his horse. "Your conversation will be missed also, Mr Segundus. Here I am guaranteed a sensible opinion; elsewhere I am not." His smile turned wry, then he pursed his lips and looked over to the road. "Yet elsewhere we must go," he said, "if we are to show the King's Book to all who need to see it."

Vinculus let out a long sigh at this, as if he did not relish such a prospect.

"You are of course welcome to return," said Mr Segundus. "You may stay here whenever you wish for respite from your travelling."

Childermass turned to him with raised eyebrows. "Thank you," he said, with sincerity. "But such a visit must have the blessing of your patroness, I gather, and I rather doubt she will relish the thought of our frequent return." He gave a self-deprecating smile.

Mr Segundus flushed. "I do not see why not," he said. "You have proved yourselves friends of our school, so I am certain Mrs Lennox cannot object upon that score." He thought of her last letter. "Indeed, she thinks you likely to improve the notoriety of our new establishment."

Childermass laughed unexpectedly. "Notorious eh?" He caught Mr Segundus' eye and laughed some more. "Well. Perhaps we are and, in that case, perhaps we shall indeed visit again." With a smile and a nod of the head, he doffed his hat. "Good day to you, sir." Then he turned his horse to the road and motioned for Vinculus to follow.

Mr Segundus bowed again as they started off. "Good day, and a safe journey to you both." He stood and watched as Childermass and Vinculus made their way down the road and over the bridge. The heaviness in Mr Segundus' chest felt now greater than it had been before. He took a breath and let it out, and then turned back to the house.

For the next week or so Mr Segundus occupied himself greatly with his school. There was much he had not done when Childermass and Vinculus had been present, for he had been distracted by the study of the King's letters on many occasions. Thus, realising how much time had passed and how much still needed to be done, Mr Segundus set about his work in earnest.

It is true that for the first few days Mr Segundus found himself a little melancholy, but the more he worked upon his school and the closer it came, little by little, to fruition, the more excited he grew. There is no doubt that Mr Segundus still missed Childermass' advice, for Childermass was knowledgeable on many practical matters (and how Mr Segundus rued the fact that he did not know where Childermass was staying, so could not even write to him to ask his opinion!) yet Mr Segundus persevered onwards. Sometimes, even, he allowed himself to indulge in happy fantasy and imagine a time when his school had become a competent seat of learning, his pupils contented at their studies, and himself buoyed by their progress.

Thus things continued, much as they had before Childermass and Vinculus had arrived.

One morning, as Mr Segundus was looking through his letters (with anticipation, for he had been in correspondence with a man about some curtain fabric and expected a set of samples imminently) he came across a letter that was addressed in a hand he was not familiar with. Frowning, he wondered if perhaps it was from the draper's clerk, or perhaps, and his heart leapt at the thought, it was from a prospective student who had already heard of his endeavours!

Yet when Mr Segundus opened the letter, he found it was neither of these things. Instead, it had been written in Bath, was dated two days previously, and said the following:

"Sir,

"It is with deep regret that I must inform you of the death of Mrs Catherine Lennox, being the result of an unfortunate accident with a carriage. The funeral, if you are able to travel, is to be on Wednesday next at St Mary's Church.

"I am, sir, your humble servant,  
"F. Blake"

Oh.

_Oh._

Merciful Lord, is it possible to describe the grief that Mr Segundus felt upon reading those words? He had not many friends but Mrs Lennox had been one of that small number. Indeed, she had been more than a friend: despite the fact that they saw each other rarely, Mrs Lennox had done _everything_ for Mr Segundus. She had believed in him when others did not; she had trusted him with her house and her money; she had done all that was possible to give a man encouragement and support.

And now she was gone.

Mr Segundus bowed his head.

Yet Mr Segundus allowed himself only an hour, or maybe two, for tears. Soon he rang up his manservant Charles and ordered his bags be packed. The journey to Bath was long, and difficult in parts, and Mr Segundus knew he ought to set off that very day if he was to attend the funeral (and attend the funeral he must).

Mr Segundus had made the journey to Bath several times before, and he was prepared for all the trouble it took him to cross the moors and meet the place where the coach stopped. These trivialities occupied him for the beginning of his journey, but once he was finally in the coach and on his way to Bath Mr Segundus had liberty to consult his thoughts.

How cruel fate was to allow such a tragic accident to occur to such a good woman! And she _was_ good: kind, intelligent, resourceful. Doubtless there would be many in Bath and across the country who would mourn her passing.

And to think of poor Mrs Blake! How kind it was of her to write to him and invite him to the funeral though he lived so far away. Surely, if anyone was feeling the pain of the loss it was her. How long had Mrs Blake and Mrs Lennox been friends? Mr Segundus did not know, but presumably they had lived as companions for many years before he made their acquaintance. To lose such a close friend must surely be a terrible thing. Mr Segundus had no experience of such a loss, but he could well imagine the bleakness of it, the emptiness, the desperation it must cause.

Mr Segundus resolved to pay a visit to Mrs Blake as soon as the funeral was over and to offer her his condolences. Doubtless she had many other things to occupy her time, and doubtless she had concerns far greater than a poor gentleman from Yorkshire, but Mr Segundus could not bear the thought of travelling to Bath and not seeing her at this time. Indeed, though Starecross Hall had belonged to Mrs Lennox and not to Mrs Blake, had not Mr Segundus always met with the two of them together? Had not Mrs Blake been his friend, just as his patroness had been? Mrs Blake was ever kind and gentle and if there was anything Mr Segundus could do to soothe her heart, he would do it.

And so the journey continued on. Mr Segundus chose not to overnight at an inn but stayed on in the coach so as to reach his destination the sooner, sleeping in his seat as much as he could (though this was hardly comfortable).

The night was long, and when the next morning broke, with a weak light over the fields, so too did Mr Segundus' strength. In the shadows of that rocking coach, with only two other passengers for company (and they both asleep), Mr Segundus' thoughts finally turned to himself.

The precariousness of his current situation could not be ignored. His whole livelihood and the whole business of the school were entirely dependent upon Mrs Lennox's goodwill and charity. Without those two things Mr Segundus now had nothing: just a small scrap of savings and not anywhere to call home.

Everything he had hoped and everything he had dreamed of was gone. There was nothing left for him save poverty and despair.

Mr Segundus pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it to his eyes.

Several moments passed, with Mr Segundus attempting to stifle any sobs so as not to disturb his companions. But, slowly, he regained his composure.

He chastised himself for being so foolish. Why this self-centred wallowing? Was he truly so proud? No. Mr Segundus well knew that his own situation was unimportant when there were other, more deserving, mourners to consider. And, yes, his comfort and future hopes depended upon Mrs Lennox, but that did not mean they would die with her. Had not Mrs Blake been privy to their project from the very beginning? Did she not agree with all that Mrs Lennox had suggested regarding Starecross and the school? Was it not true that, knowing Mrs Blake to be the woman she was, Mr Segundus had very little to fear?

This line of thinking strengthened Mr Segundus a great deal. He blew his nose on his handkerchief and then returned his gaze to the fields outside the carriage window.

Mr Segundus determined, then and there, that whilst he was in Bath he would find some time to talk to Mrs Blake about business. Not on his first visit, of course. (He couldn't think of anything so vulgar!) But after a day or two he would raise the issue, not pressuring Mrs Blake to act one way or another, but merely acquainting her with his situation and allowing her to do as she thought best according to her judgement.


	6. Chapter 6

_After I had aboden at West Hall for a half year or thereabouts it was then full winter and the house was given over to fasting for the month of December and to a-cooking and a-cleaning and all that was to be done in preparation for the feast of Christmas._

_My Mistress Nugent and my Mistress Duval were not given to excesses and they did celebrate Christmas sparsely for ladies of their station. Yet I had not before observed Christmastide in a big house and so found me in good cheer for all twelve days and on the twelfth day was I most merry._

_That night I lay me down to sleep but not sleeping I rose again. The hall around me was full empty and my fellow-servants all gone, though I thought this not odd. In the hall is there a window of glass most fine and through this window I espied the moon. So beauteous was the moon to me that I thought to go outside to see it, which I did._

_In the yard without was one other looking at the moon. Dressed in black was he and with clothes of a nobleman. Yet when he saw me he smiled._

_"Dear Lettice," said he. "I have planted this moon in the sky for thee. With magic have I done so for I am the Raven King of the North and thou art to me like a daughter. Good daughters must help their fathers in their trade and likewise I will that thou wouldst help me in mine."_

_Then with white fingers he did pluck the moon from the sky and set it into my hands, and on being given the moon thus I awoke in the hall to the snores of the cook beside me._

***

Mr Segundus arrived in Bath the day before the funeral. By the time he stepped out of the coach it was growing late, with the sun low in the sky, and he found that all he desired at that moment was a good meal followed by a good sleep.

There was an inn that Mr Segundus habitually stayed in when he travelled to Bath; it was well-run, well-furnished and well-regarded by the city's inhabitants. His visits there had kindly been paid for by Mrs Lennox, and when Mr Segundus had fretted over the expense he was putting her to, Mrs Lennox had told him firmly that she could not bear the thought of his staying anywhere else.

Now, however, Mr Segundus had only his own money to spend; therefore he turned his back upon the more genteel parts of town and sought cheaper lodgings. These he found in a small side-street. The inn itself was old, it's furnishings old also, but it at least seemed clean enough and the landlady smiled to see him.

Mr Segundus dearly wished for the solitude that a room to himself would bring; the coach journey and left him tired, and his worries had left him tireder still. Yet the cost of a whole room to oneself was more expensive than sharing, and Mr Segundus could not at all justify spending so much money. Therefore he paid for a shared bed and hoped that his companion would not be inclined to conversation.

After a brief meal in the inn's small and drab parlour, Mr Segundus retired to his room to discover, happily, that his bed-mate had not yet arrived. Grateful for this respite, Mr Segundus quickly changed into his nightshirt and climbed into the old, worn bed. He must have fallen asleep then and there, for he was woken later by his bed-mate's arrival. Who this man was, Mr Segundus did not know, but he must have been out drinking, for he stumbled several times, swore at the bedpost in a stage whisper, and then fell into bed and quickly began snoring at a pitch that was not conducive to the slumber of anyone else in the building.

While the snoring was not pleasant, nor was the persistent smell of beer that accompanied the sound, Mr Segundus was merely glad that conversation was not required of him.

The next morning Mr Segundus rose while the bed's other occupant was still asleep. Mr Segundus breakfasted in the parlour, then took himself off to St Mary's Church to discover the time of the funeral.

St Mary's was a small church and rather old, with fittings that had seen better days. The churchyard was equally old in parts, though some of the memorials were newer. In particular, a corner of the churchyard saw two men digging a fresh, new grave. Mr Segundus hurried past the sight, not wishing to look at it just yet, and he sought out the vicar with some speed.

The funeral, it seems, was not to be held until that evening and the vicar bid Mr Segundus good day. Mr Segundus did not wish to return just yet to the drab, little inn in which he had spent the night and so he cast about for some other way to occupy his time. For a moment he fancied calling upon Mrs Blake, but he shortly decided against it. He did not want to bother her for no purpose on a day such as this. No; he would instead visit her on the morrow when he could bring her news of the funeral. Surely she would like to hear about the service and how it had been received.

For the rest of the day, therefore, Mr Segundus idled about Bath. He visited several booksellers but bought nothing; he visited several other churches but prayed little; and he even set off and climbed one of the many hills surrounding the town until he could look back down the way he had come and see Bath nestled in its valley like a pearl in a green cushion.

Finally, as night fell, it came time for Mr Segundus to return to the inn once more. There he brushed down his coat, put on his only black neckerchief, and headed out to St Mary's.

In the darkness of the churchyard there were now many people standing, and in the church also. All were awaiting the hearse and the procession, though they stayed away from the open grave in the corner, which was no longer filled with gravediggers but was flanked by two lanterns. Among the crowd a large number of gentlemen were present, all dressed very black and fashionable. It almost felt as if the entirety of the great and the good of Bath were present, so large was their number. Yet in addition to the gentleman were many men who, by their dress, looked to be but small businessmen or shopkeepers (though most of them were dressed better than Mr Segundus), as well as a number of men who could only be labourers.

Speaking to several of those present Mr Segundus discovered, to his comfort, that Mrs Lennox appeared to have been well-respected amongst the inhabitants of Bath. Indeed, looking about the churchyard it felt as if the whole town had issued out into the night to bid farewell to this good woman.

Then, at last, the funeral procession arrived. It looked very grand. There were pages all in black, and the hearse was pulled by two horses the colour of midnight with black ostrich feathers dancing atop their heads. Behind the hearse came a long line of mourners. Mr Segundus had not expected to see many women at the funeral, as he knew they generally preferred not to attend such things, but he was surprised to find several groups of women in the procession, with one of these groups, near the front of the procession, containing Mrs Blake. She was dressed all in black and held a handkerchief to her face.

There was not time to speak to Mrs Blake, however, for the service began as soon as the procession entered the church. It was a solemn service, and though the small church was so crowded that Mr Segundus and many others were obliged to stand throughout, the vicar performed his offices nobly. Indeed, Mr Segundus found he had to make use of his own handkerchief before the service was out.

Once all was over and Mrs Lennox had been laid to rest in the churchyard, Mr Segundus remained for a while at her graveside, there to recite to himself a final prayer of his own. When he had finished, he straightened and looked about himself, feeling not a little melancholy. Some way away, Mrs Blake was standing with a group of ladies. Mr Segundus picked his way over to her and bowed low.

"Oh!" said Mrs Blake as she saw him. "Mr Segundus! I had not realised you were here. How glad I am that you could come." She stepped closer and held her hand out to Mr Segundus, who took it and pressed it between his own.

"I could not miss the funeral of such a good woman," he said, releasing her hand. "How do you do, Mrs Blake? I had not expected to see you."

"The idea of not attending the funeral was unthinkable to me," she said, looking over to the grave. "I couldn't allow dear Katy to be alone on her funeral of all days. For you see, I could not..." She swallowed and dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. "I could not... bear the thought of her all alone."

Mr Segundus nodded, disliking to see Mrs Blake so distressed. "I understand," he said, when she had lowered her handkerchief. "I understand. And she is not alone; just look at all the people who have come to say goodbye to her."

"Yes." Mrs Blake gave him a watery smile and sniffed. "Yes, you are right. I suppose it has been as good a funeral as anyone could have hoped for."

"The service was very noble, I thought," offered Mr Segundus.

Mrs Blake sniffed some more. "Yes," she said again.

"And how do you do?" asked Mr Segundus. "Are you well?"

She shrugged. "I do not know how I do. It is..." She looked about herself and shrugged again.

"Might I..." began Mr Segundus. "That is, if you are not overrun with visitors... Might I call on you tomorrow?" He smiled gently. "I know I cannot do much, but if the company of a friend would be in any way beneficial to you, I should like to help."

"Oh." Mrs Blake looked at him. "I am sorry, but you cannot."

Mr Segundus frowned in surprise. He then hurried to clear the frown from his face (for doubtless Mrs Blake would not appreciate him looking at her so) and he opened his mouth to say that of course Mrs Blake should not feel obliged to do anything she did not wish, and that if receiving visitors would make her feel the worse then she...

"Forgive me, Mr Segundus. I do not mean that you would not be welcome." She gave him a sad smile. "I mean that it is impossible, because I am not currently residing in Bath." She gestured at the group of ladies behind her. "I have moved to Wells, to live with my sister, Mrs Pritchett. We shall be travelling back imminently."

"Oh," said Mr Segundus, understanding dawning. "Oh I see. Then I am glad for you, Mrs Blake. It is good that you will have company in these difficult times. I am sure a stay in Wells will be most fortifying and you will feel all the better for it when you do at last return to Bath."

Mrs Blake shook her head sorrowfully. "You misunderstand, sir. But that is my fault; I am not speaking clearly." She took a breath. "I mean that I have moved to live with my sister. Permanently, as far as I am aware. Returning to Bath is not possible; I have not the means."

"Have not the means?" asked Mr Segundus, confused. "But surely you... you... Why, I can understand that Mrs Lennox might not have been able to leave you the house here in Bath, but surely she will have provided you with an income if you have not one of your own." He gave Mrs Blake an encouraging look. "You will see, when the will is read, Mrs Lennox will not have left you without..."

"Oh Mr Segundus." Mrs Blake had a hand to her mouth. "I am sorry. I realise no-one has told you. There will be no reading of the will because there is no will." She gave him a pitying look. "Katy died intestate."

Mr Segundus' stomach somersaulted. "Intestate? But..."

"It was so very sudden," said Mrs Blake, looking across to the church. She shook her head. "Katy did not see the carriage when she stepped out, and she was..." Mrs Blake swallowed. "We carried her back inside and called for the physician, of course, but though she continued on for an hour or more, she was insensible to everything." Mrs Blake had raised her handkerchief to her eyes again. Several moments passed, then she sighed and lifted her head, looking to the church's bell tower. "There was no time to make a will." Mrs Blake's voice was thick. "Though the physician did his best, Katy never returned to us."

Mr Segundus did not know what to say to such a thing. He was affected by Mrs Blake's words but felt helpless to console her. "I am so sorry," he said, pulling out his own handkerchief and wiping his eyes. "It must have been terrible. I am so sorry."

Mrs Blake gave him a sad smile. "So you see," she said, "there is no will. Instead, letters of administration will be granted to Katy's next of kin." She cast her gaze over the churchyard for a moment and then pointed with her handkerchief to a well-dressed young gentleman by the porch. "There: Mr Samuel Aston." She looked to Mr Segundus. "Katy's nephew by her late brother."

"Ah." Mr Segundus glanced at the gentleman in question. "Then surely he will help you, Mrs Blake? He must have known how much of a dear friend you were to Mrs Lennox and how much she would have wanted to think of your comfort." Mr Segundus pocketed his handkerchief. "If you need someone to speak to him on your behalf..."

"Thank you, Mr Segundus..." Mrs Blake sighed again. "...but it is no use. Despite his appearance, I can tell you that Mr Aston has very little money and very much debt. Katy was continually advising him against his way of living (particularly against his love of the card room) but he wouldn't listen; she, in turn, refused to pay off his debts when they grew too large. There was never much love between them." Mrs Blake shook her head. "Mr Aston would not wish to give anything to me. Even if he _did_ wish it, I doubt he would be able to; the majority of Katy's estate will go towards paying off his creditors, I imagine."

Mr Segundus looked over to Mr Aston again. To live without much money was an experience Mr Segundus knew well and could sympathise with, but to gamble in such a state Mr Segundus could not. To imagine that Mrs Blake would now suffer as a result of such reckless living!

"But you, Mr Segundus," said Mrs Blake, "might fare better than I." She gave him a kind smile. "I would be nothing but a burden on Mr Aston's purse, but your school, sir... Why, your school would be a much more appealing prospect. Once the school is established it will bring in a regular and good income (of that Katy was certain); surely Mr Aston could be made to see the benefit of funding such a thing." She patted Mr Segundus on the elbow. "If I were you I would call on Mr Aston tomorrow. He has lodgings in Alfred Street. You may then apprise him of the business of the school; he and Katy spoke so little he likely hasn't heard of it at all. And you must make it known to him that the takings of the school would be far greater than the little money he would get by selling Starecross Hall." She wrinkled her nose. "Starecross is such a secluded and unappealing area; no-one would pay good money for a house there."

Mr Segundus was at a loss for words. It was too much to take in. To think that Starecross Hall was in the hands of a man like Mr Aston... To think that Starecross Hall might be sold to cover Mr Aston's debts... !

But that mattered little. What mattered was that Mrs Blake, though grieving, had taken the time to think of Mr Segundus' small cares! Mr Segundus bowed and thanked her sincerely for her advice.

Mrs Blake smiled. "I hope all goes well for you, sir. Katy was so keen on the thought of the school, especially since you had so much trouble with Mr Norrell before. She would want you to continue on with it, I am certain."

"She was very kind," agreed Mr Segundus.

"Yes," said Mrs Blake sadly. "She was."

A moment passed in silence. They both of them looked over to the grave. Then Mr Segundus bowed again and, wishing Mrs Blake a good journey and good health, he made his goodbyes and left to return to his inn.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thereafter I set me upon my new path of the learning of magic for to appease my Lord the Raven King of the North. In secret did I such thing, for I was afeared that my Mistress Nugent would rebuke me for the studying which she had not given me leave to do._

_At times when my Mistress Nugent and my Mistress Duval were abroad, or else in some other part of the house, would I steal into their chamber and make use of their magical tools. I had espied them at their magic many times that I knew right well how those tools ought be used, and it was with some goodly success that I set upon my work._

_The ewer I made to speak. The fireplace I made to light itself even inspite of the dampness of its logs. The shadow under my mistress' chair I made to purr like a cat. And the glass in the window I made to show the sky in Jerusalem and in other holy places._

_For weeks did I do this in great secretness, always setting the chamber back to its former state before I left. Yet my mistress Nugent is a right clever Lady and wise and did see one time that I had left her tool most precious, a mirror, on the chest when it had not been set there afore._

_Thus one morning she bade me go in to her and said she to me, "Lettice, you have been doing magic." "I have not, my Lady." Then spake she about the mirror upon the chest as I have herewith related and I did fall to my knees with a great weeping and full sorry was I that I had been discovered._

_"Weep not, Lettice, but show me instead the magic you practice." Thus I enchanted the window-glass to show Jerusalem as aforesaid and my Mistress Nugent did smile full glad. "What skill you show, my Lettice. Weep no more but come to me henceforth every day and in the mystery of magic will I teach you." And so I did. And so she did._

***

That night Mr Segundus' bed-mate was a different man from the night before. This new man was neither drunk, nor late to bed. Indeed, he was already present when Mr Segundus returned from the funeral.

This did not give Mr Segundus a great deal of comfort, for he fancied that he would have rather preferred the snores of the former to the apparent attention of the latter. The conversation with Mrs Blake had left Mr Segundus out-of-sorts and in a great deal of anxiety, and the last thing he wished for was to be disturbed by a bed-fellow keen on conversation.

Yet there was nothing to be done. The man in question, who went by the name of Cornwell, was a horse-dealer by trade and a friendly and talkative person by disposition. While Mr Segundus undressed for bed, Cornwell asked him where he had been? Mr Segundus replied that he had been at a funeral and asked Cornwell if he had known Mrs Lennox? Cornwell had not. Cornwell only visited Bath four times a year for his horses, and after a brief sentence or two in sympathy with Mr Segundus' loss, Cornwell then set upon telling Mr Segundus everything there was to know about the life of a horse-dealer and about the life of Cornwell particularly.

Mr Segundus listened to all with good grace, making the appropriate comments at the appropriate places, even though he himself was such an infrequent and indifferent horseman that he was still a little frightened to draw close to one of those good animals.

Yet a long, and somewhat tedious, conversation has this benefit: it will prevent a man from dwelling upon those worries that would have troubled him when alone. In the circumstances, therefore, Mr Segundus slept well that night, finding that he fell asleep early and woke little in the night, if only to avoid any further horse-talk with his companion.

In the morning, Cornwell rose with Mr Segundus and accompanied him to the parlour for breakfast. There, Mr Segundus was fully-acquainted with Cornwell's proposed itinerary that day, including the horses he meant to sell, the horses he meant to buy, and the other horse-dealers he was sure to meet.

As a closing remark, and almost as an afterthought, Cornwell asked Mr Segundus what his plans were for the day?

Mr Segundus, who was at that moment rising from the table, said that he was going to meet a man on Alfred Street: a fellow-mourner from the funeral.

"Ah," said Cornwell, eating his last bite of bread. "I hope it goes well, and I'm sorry for your loss, I'm sure. Ask him if he would like a new horse to cheer himself up and send him to me. Cornwell's the name."

Mr Segundus thanked him briskly, bowed, and left.

The result of Cornwell's unending conversations was that it was only as Mr Segundus set out on his way to Alfred Street that he finally had time to consider where he was going and to what purpose.

Mrs Blake's description of Mr Aston had not been encouraging. Mr Segundus had little sympathy for those taken to gambling recklessly, particularly when they showed no remorse for their actions. And yet, perhaps it was unfair to tarnish Mr Aston so. After all, Mr Segundus had never met him. Perhaps indeed the occasion of inheriting a large estate would cause Mr Aston to consider reforming his ways.

Mr Segundus determined that he would not pass judgement until he had met the man.

But, oh, the thought of meeting him caused Mr Segundus a good deal of anxiety. Here was a person to whom Mr Segundus had never been introduced, but who now held Mr Segundus' future in the palm of his hand. And Mr Segundus was supposed to beg him for aid!

No, no. Mr Segundus disliked the very idea of it. A school was, first and foremost, a noble institution for the instruction of young minds. It was a worthy cause and one that Mr Segundus was happy to further. Why, just consider how great was the need for magical teaching in this new age! Consider shaping the very essence of English magic so that it grew and flourished in an ordered and vigorous way!

A school ought not to be run solely as a _business_. Mr Segundus had never had any pretentions towards becoming a businessman, and he certainly did not want to sully his project at Starecross with notions of profits and returns. Oh no. He had set upon it for the love of the thing, and for love only.

Yet love will rarely provide one with property and capital, and property and capital were exactly what Mr Segundus needed before his school could be opened. He had been lucky that Mrs Lennox had given him both and had allowed him to manage the scheme as he saw fit, but now she was gone and it was up to Mr Segundus alone to seize the moment if any progress was to be made.

Therefore, no matter how distasteful it was to Mr Segundus to go to a man he had not met and to beg for money, that was exactly what he knew he must do. He must act the businessman: put forward a proposal and speak of profits and money until Mr Aston was persuaded that he would end up a great deal richer if only he funded Mr Segundus' plans.

Were Mr Segundus' hopes not so set on his school, and were he not aware that Mrs Blake had so kindly urged him to take this course, Mr Segundus might have accepted his loss and refrained from entering such an embarrassing situation. However, when Mr Segundus weighed up his options, he knew that the loss of his school, a project he had begun again to cherish so dearly, would be far more painful to him than, for one morning, to assume the clothes of business and request assistance.

Thus it was, urging himself to courage, that Mr Segundus arrived at Alfred Street. He easily discovered which was Mr Aston's building through asking a man who was passing on the street. Making his way over to Mr Aston's door, therefore, and taking a deep breath, Mr Segundus stepped up and rang the bell.

The door was shortly opened by a rather scruffy-looking maid holding a pail of water.

"Who are you here for?" she asked.

"Mr Aston," replied Mr Segundus, removing his hat. "We haven't yet met, but we were both at the funeral yesterday."

The maid shrugged, as if she cared little about this additional information. She allowed Mr Segundus inside and led him upstairs to the first floor.

Here she left him. "Mr Aston's door is the one on the right," she said, heading back down the stairs without bothering to announce to Mr Aston that he had a guest.

This behaviour was not quite so surprising to Mr Segundus as might be presumed. As soon as he had entered the building he had realised that this was not a gentleman's private home but a lodging house (though with fittings rather more plush and fashionable than the lodging houses in which Mr Segundus had been accustomed to live). What lodging house maid wishes to announce guests to the lodgers? She is not paid enough to be a footman and so does not act as one.

Left with no other choice, Mr Segundus walked over to the aforementioned door and knocked upon it.

A few moments later the door was opened by a man who could only be Mr Aston himself. His hair was blond and his blue coat was of a fashionable cut. He frowned to see Mr Segundus standing before him.

Mr Segundus found himself flushing. "I do beg your pardon for intruding, sir." He bowed. "We have not yet met. I am John Segundus, a friend of Mrs Lennox. We were both at the funeral yesterday."

Mr Aston frowned some more, but appeared resigned to Mr Segundus' visit. He stepped back from the door to allow Mr Segundus to enter.

The apartment itself was large, Mr Segundus discovered, containing at least two rooms that he could see from where he stood. It was well-furnished also. Mr Aston directed Mr Segundus to a comfortable chair by the window.

"Thank you," said Mr Segundus, sitting down. "It is very kind of you to receive me."

"You were at the funeral, then?" asked Mr Aston, sitting in a chair opposite. He glanced to a side-table where a half-drunk cup of coffee sat, but he did not offer Mr Segundus one.

Mr Segundus nodded. "Please allow me to offer you my condolences, sir. I know how difficult it can be to lose a family member. But the service was very good, I thought, and the number of attendees was commendable."

"Yes," said Mr Aston, looking at Mr Segundus quizzically. "But you are not here merely to discuss the funeral, I take it?"

Mr Segundus flushed again. "No," he said, looking to the hat in his hands. "You are correct. I have come upon... upon business."

Mr Aston let out a breath and looked Mr Segundus in the eye. "Go on."

"As you may know," began Mr Segundus, "Mrs Lennox owned a property in Yorkshire called Starecross Hall."

"I did not know that," replied Mr Aston. He now looked rather interested.

Mr Segundus did not dare wonder what that interest heralded. "I... Ah. Mrs Lennox has been very kind to allow me the occupation of Starecross Hall and... Well, that is... It was not _kind_ of her. It... it was prudent. You see, when Mrs Lennox and I met, I was a tutor, and Mrs Lennox thought there would be some benefit in turning Starecross into a school with myself the master. I am currently engaged in fitting out the school, and it was our hope that in a month or so we could begin taking on pupils."

At this Mr Aston offered no comment, so Mr Segundus soldiered on:

"Mrs Lennox estimated that some good deal of profit could be made from the school, what with magic so popular as it is now and magical education so much in demand."

Mr Aston looked at him. "Magic?"

"Yes," said Mr Segundus eagerly. "We wish to open one of the first schools of magic in the country. And as I have been a magician for very many..."

"No," said Mr Aston.

Mr Segundus stuttered to a halt. "I... I beg your pardon?"

"No," repeated Mr Aston. "You want my blessing to continue on with the scheme, I see, and some money to finance it too, I don't doubt."

Mr Segundus blushed.

"But my blessing you do not have. Good day, sir." Mr Aston rose from his chair.

Mr Segundus stood also. "What... ? But... But why?"

"Does a man need a reason to do with his property as he sees fit?" asked Mr Aston impatiently. Mr Segundus must have appeared very dismayed at this, for Mr Aston then sighed and said, "Very well. If you must know, allow me to tell you: I refuse to have anything to do with magic or with magicians."

"Oh!" said Mr Segundus, taking a step forward as Mr Aston turned to head to the door. "But again I must ask you why? Why would you not wish to be involved with magic, when it is a field that is both noble and illustrious and, indeed, integral to the very..."

"Is it noble to cheat a man of his money?" asked Mr Aston, scowling at him. "I'm sure it was very _noble_ of that low-bred fellow to magically discover every card in my hand until he had cheated me out of two thousand pounds." Mr Aston scoffed. "Yellow-curtained vagabonds the lot of you."

"Two thousand pounds?" cried Mr Segundus. (He did not dare mention that the cheating had probably been through sleight-of-hand than through any magical talent.) "I am very sorry to hear that you lost so much. But you must believe me that not all magicians are like the man you met. Indeed, most magicians are gentlemen and aim to do nothing but good works." Mr Segundus was by this point clutching his hat so hard that his knuckles had turned white. "Surely you must have heard of Mr Norrell and Mr Strange, sir. They helped the government very much in the late war, and Mr Strange was even at the battle of Waterloo." Mr Segundus glanced to the floor. "I am fortunate to be able to count Mr Strange as one of my..."

"Strange is the one who went mad, is he not?" asked Mr Aston. "Killed his wife and then vanished with Norrell into the other lands?"

Mr Segundus had turned very red. "Mr Strange did not," he said vehemently. "He did not kill his wife. She was kidnapped by a fairy but was freed and is now in Italy with friends."

"Very well," said Mr Aston. "So he did not kill her; he merely had her enchanted. And he did go mad, did he not? It is all anyone says of him."

"I... I..." said Mr Segundus. "That is... There were rumours of madness of course, but..."

Mr Aston shook his head in disbelief. "Whether he did or didn't does not matter. Don't you see? I do not wish to become embroiled in anything so infamous. Magicians are known to be scoundrels. I do not want anything to do with them."

"I... I beg to differ," stammered Mr Segundus. "How can you...?"

"Good day, sir," said Mr Aston, heading to the door.

"Wait," said Mr Segundus, stumbling after him. "Wait. If you do not wish to have a school of magic then I concede." Mr Segundus' hands were trembling. He clutched his hat more tightly. "Starecross need not be a school. Why, for the past year Mrs Lennox and I have run Starecross as a madhouse. With its secluded location, it is perfect for those disturbed in mind. We had for our patient a distinguished lady, and while discretion does not allow me to name her, I can report that she made a full recovery."

Mr Aston snorted. "No," he said again. "Do you not understand? _You_ are a magician! I do not deal with magicians, no matter what you choose to do." He opened the door.

Poor Mr Segundus could feel the tears pricking in his eyes at the face of such rejection, but he knew he must make one more appeal. "Then..." said Mr Segundus. "Then that is how it must be and I will accept your decision. But, please, I am not here about Starecross only. What happens to me I do not mind, but there is one other I would like to speak for, though she has not asked me to." He raised his head and looked at Mr Aston. "Mrs Blake I believe you know. She was a dear friend to Mrs Lennox and now she finds that she must leave her home and her friends in Bath to go live with her sister. Surely you will agree that it would be good to grant Mrs Blake some comfort. It is what Mrs Lennox would have wanted."

Mr Aston huffed. "If Mrs Lennox wished to waste her money on hangers-on, then that was her business. But I certainly do not intend to make it mine." He opened the door wider. "Good day, sir."

"But.." started Mr Segundus.

"Good day, sir! Good day!" replied Mr Aston, at which dismissal Mr Segundus fled the apartment and all but ran from the house.

It was with great trouble that Mr Segundus tried not to cry as he hurried back to the inn. What would the people of Bath think to see a man sobbing on the streets?

"He sheds tears to no purpose," they would doubtless say. "This fellow thought he might ask what he wanted of Mr Aston, though Mr Aston was under no obligation to help him. And now this fool weeps because the world does not give him what was never his to begin with."

No. Mr Segundus would not cry. The inheritance was Mr Aston's to do with as he wished, and if he did not wish to open a magical school, then he was not at fault, unfortunate as it was for the school's prospective master.

What Mr Segundus could not forgive, however, was Mr Aston's cruel slander of Mrs Blake. To act as if she was friends with Mrs Lennox only for Mrs Lennox's purse! Did Mr Aston not speak with Mrs Blake at the funeral? Did he not see how lost she seemed? Had he not ever seen Mrs Blake and Mrs Lennox together and observed the intimacy with which they graced one another?

It made Mr Segundus angry to see a good woman misjudged so. If Mrs Lennox had been alive to witness it she would doubtless have had stern words for her nephew. It is no wonder the two did not see eye to eye when Mr Aston thought only of himself and the card table.

Mr Segundus took a breath and reminded himself that if Mr Aston wished to use Mrs Lennox's money to gamble himself into debt, then that was Mr Aston's business and Mr Aston's alone. It was not Mr Segundus' place to tell him what he must do.

Oh, but did the man have no respect at all? To call Mr Strange a murderer! To claim he had enchanted Mrs Strange on purpose! How dare Mr Aston say such a thing! Mr Strange was the finest magician in England! He had fought at Waterloo!

It was in this excitable state that Mr Segundus returned to the inn. Thankfully Cornwell was still out with his horses and had not returned to their room, so Mr Segundus was allowed some solitude.

Yet what was there to do after such a disastrous meeting? It was clear that Mr Aston would not help Mr Segundus, and no amount of pleading on Mr Segundus' part would change his mind. And so why ought Mr Segundus to remain in Bath at all, expending money on inns and poor company? No. Surely the best course of action would be to return to Starecross, there to put his affairs in order and decide what to do next.

Once Mr Segundus had made up his mind, he did not desire to linger in Bath any more than was necessary. Thankfully, the coach north would be departing very shortly. Indeed, Mr Segundus only had time to pack up his things, settle his bill with the landlady in the parlour and there pen a quick note to Mr Honeyfoot:

"Sir,

I write from Bath where I have just attended the funeral of my patroness, Mrs Lennox. Her estate is to go to her nephew, who wishes to have nothing to do with magicians, or at least nothing to do with myself. If you have any advice as to what a man might do in my situation, I would be grateful to hear it. Your good cheer is much needed, my friend.

Please direct your reply to Starecross, as I am returning there immediately.

Your humble servant,  
John Segundus."

Writing this letter resulted in several tears falling. However, the landlady was watching Mr Segundus curiously, and so he blew his nose and tried as best he could to compose himself. He passed the letter to her along with sixpence, then took up his case and made his way to the inn where he was to catch the coach.


End file.
